


Self Portrait

by ProfessorFlowers



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is lightly amused, Crowley's a bit shy, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Michelangelo is a fan, Pining, Reminiscing, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFlowers/pseuds/ProfessorFlowers
Summary: Zira takes Crowley on a little date, and they find something interestingly familiar at the gallery.(The 'painting' DOES exist! https://professorflowers.tumblr.com/post/185800737750/finished-the-wip-i-really-like-how-this-turned )





	Self Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an actual drawing I did, then my friend gave me the idea for this fic!

"Hmm..."  
  
Crowley hummed, his hands in his pockets as he meandered down the bright hall, shades offering a small level of protection. They were in a small and exclusive gallery that had opened recently near Soho, which Aziraphale had simply insisted they go and visit. When he brought up the fact that 'there'd be no tickets left at this point' ZIra had simply smiled knowingly and gone about his business. Sure enough, two days later he had run up to him, practically vibrating with excitement as he flourished the two pieces of paper under Crowley's nose.  
  
"Dear, please, don't give me that look! I obtained these through completely legitimate methods! Friend of a friend, that sort of thing." The demon raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off. It wouldn't be the first time, they'd been around longer than London after all, so he was bound to know someone. He inspected the tickets he'd been presented with. It was mostly modern artists, but had some works by better known individuals as well. There was even a...  
  
"They have a Michelangelo?"  
  
"A fan of the classics I see!" He beamed at him, looking as though he would explode at any moment (he actually could do that, worryingly). "I hear there had been some in storage for a long time and recently they've been restored to their former glory! Oh, do say you'll come with me!" He practically begged, fluttering his lashes at the taller man. Crowley rolled his eyes, then gave in with a sigh and a 'fine I guess', making the angel's face light up with joy. "Marvellous! You're going to love it, my dear, trust me."  
  
And so he did, which is why he now found himself lazily dragging his gaze down the walls of the small museum. It was rather pleasant, really, filled with very traditional art, despite the newness of most of them. As the building started to become crowded, he surmised they must be approaching the more famous exhibits. There weren't many, but they were breath-taking. The subtleties of the art were what brought their work to fame, each viewing revealing something different. They took their time, humming and muttering to each other their thoughts and feelings, as they usually did during these kinds of trips.  
  
"Do you think they sell those cute mini versions of the paintings here...? Angel?" He realised that at some point Aziraphale had fallen behind, distracted by a particular portrait on the wall. Curious about what had him so enraptured he padded up behind him, then felt something sink in his stomach when he realised what he was looking at.  
  
Himself.  
  
Well, himself in the 1500's. The image before him was a portrait he'd modelled for personally for the artist, and it didn't leave much to the imagination, the only shred of dignity being a cloth draped over his lap. Behind his form, his wings were fully manifested, framing his body and casting a dark shadow across his chest, his fiery hair flowing through the fingers tangled in his locks.  
  
His face flushed as he coughed, casting his gaze down.  
  
"This is..." Aziraphale started, then he stopped, seeming to search for a better phrasing. "Intimate." Crowley groaned, burying his face in his hands and slowly falling to land on the bench set up by the painting. The angel spent an absurd amount of time studying the picture, apparently oblivious to the demon's embarrassment. He grumbled through his fingers as Zira looked down at him with curiosity.  
  
"I never took you for the kind to indulge this sort of thing. I always thought you more the type to enjoy the finished product instead." Slitted eyes peeked over the top of his dark frames, but they were hard to read.  
  
"...It was a special favour." Zira's eyes flicked back to the painting before him as he put two and two together, realisation dawning on him. It wasn't in his nature to pry if it made the other uncomfortable, but it was certainly a fascinating revelation about his companion.  
  
"...He certainly captured you well. All the intricacies are there." His vision veered to the lustrous plumage. "I'm surprised you trusted him enough to show him." There was a silence for a while before Crowley spoke up.  
  
"He was... His faith was being tested, I guess. I couldn't stand to watch it eat away at him, so I... restored it, just a little." Aziraphale frowned, then softened, sitting next to the demon. "Then he insisted I let him draw from me. The last I saw of it, it was just a pencil sketch, I had no idea he..." He looked... pleased?  
  
"You cared about him then?" A smirk crept onto Crowley's face.  
  
"I guess you could say that." His head turned to meet Aziraphale's gaze, who blushed and broke the eye contact, fidgeting with his hands.  
  
"W-Well! He certainly did a splendid job. It truly does your visage justice." His companion huffed a laugh, then leaned on Aziraphale's shoulder, relaxing them both. They just sat there for a long while, only half appreciating the craft in front of them before Crowley spoke again.  
  
"I rather like it, now that I really look at it."  
  
He did.


End file.
